---
title: 'A Missionary''s Wife: Ashbel Green Fairchild on the Life of Louisa Lowrie'
type: video
hasMedia: true
requiresPurchase: false
authors:
- 'Jonathan Master'
date: 2026-06-09
collection: 'Dead Presbyterians Society'
subcollection: 'Season 3'
topics:
- 'Foreign Missions'
- 'Missions Biography'
scriptures:
- 'Isaiah 6'
url: https://confessional.org/dead-presbyterians-society/season-3/a-missionarys-wife-ashbel-green-fairchild-on-the-life-of-louisa-lowrie
---

# A Missionary's Wife: Ashbel Green Fairchild on the Life of Louisa Lowrie

In this episode, we explore the life of Louisa A. Lowrie—a young missionary wife whose brief but radiant faith burned brightly for Christ. Through her own journals and letters, we see a woman of deep devotion, tender conscience, and unwavering surrender who gave everything to the cause of the gospel, even unto death.

[Watch](https://vimeo.com/manage/videos/1199720312)

## Transcript

So many today talk about greatness, seeking after great things, but what would it look like to ask a different question? Where can I be most useful? Where can I do the most good, regardless of who notices? Greetings from the past. Welcome to Dead Presbyterian Society. My name is Jonathan Master.

I serve as president of Greenville Seminary. At age 24, Louisa Ann Lowry stepped onto a ship bound for the other side of the world. She was convinced that God had called her to carry the gospel to those whom she had never met, but those whom she loved deeply and served in her prayers.

Her life burned like a candle, a brief, brilliant flame that refused to be dimmed by fear, frailty, or uncertainty. She battled illness, self-doubt, and the weight of her own perceived spiritual shortcomings, yet she pressed forward with unwavering resolve. This life, the life of Louisa Lowry, forces us to pause and to ask, what compels a young woman, a woman with seemingly her whole life in front of her, newly married, fragile in health, tender in conscience, to give everything for Christ, ultimately even giving her life itself? Louisa's story is not simply a missionary story.

It's a story of devotion, of a longing for holiness, and of a courageous heart learning to trust God's providence through joy and sacrifice and sorrow, and finally through death. Today, we explore the life, writings, and legacy of Louisa A. Lowry, the wife of missionary John C. Lowry, and this book shows the life of missionary service through the eyes of her pastor and biographer A.G. Fairchild. He preserved her voice so that generations might learn through her luminous, yet brief witness.

And I'll say this at the beginning, we so value this book and we believe it will be a help to all of our listeners. So, if you would like to write to us for a free copy of the book, you can do that. Just write us at info at gpts.edu and we would be delighted to send you a copy of this book that we're going to survey briefly in this episode.

Louisa's life becomes vivid because her story is told primarily in her own words. It's primarily letters and journal entries that her pastor, A.G. Fairchild, carefully compiled after her death. And in an era where missionary accounts primarily spotlight the men, and that's understandable, Louisa's memoir provides a rare window into the inner life of a young woman who was wrestling with calling and sanctification and obedience.

But in order to understand this biography of Louisa Lowry, it might be worthwhile to understand a little bit about her pastor who compiled these things, A.G. Fairchild. His life intersected with hers in profound ways, and this illuminates, I think, something of what we in her own journal entries. Asherbald Green Fairchild was born in 1795 in Hanover, New Jersey.

He was taught at home by his widowed mother, and then he commenced his classical studies in Morristown, New Jersey at the age of 13. He joined the senior class of the College of New Jersey, Princeton, in 1812 and graduated in 1813. He made a public profession of faith in 1814, joined the Presbyterian Church in Hanover, and then studied at Princeton Theological Seminary from June 1814 to September 1816, so the very early, early days of Princeton Seminary.

He was licensed to preach in 1816 and was then engaged on a missionary tour of North Carolina, followed by other missionary tours of New Jersey and Pennsylvania. There were large stretches of those areas of the United States that were as yet unevangelized, that did not have churches to proclaim the gospel. He was ordained as an evangelist in Pittsburgh on July 1st, 1818, and then he was installed as pastor of the churches of Georges Creek, Morgantown, and Greensboro, Virginia on July 2nd, 1822, and in April of 1827, he was installed as the pastor of Tent Church in Uniontown, Pennsylvania, where he served for 36 years, and he died in 1864.

He wrote a number of things, mostly historical works, but he edited this memoir of Louisa A. Lowry in 1836. Now, what he does, as I've mentioned already, is he offers readers a carefully woven narrative drawn largely from Louisa's own words, her journal entries and letters and private covenant and her personal reflections, and so this came out shortly after her death, and the idea was not just to preserve the story of a young missionary, but really to offer the church, the church in his own day and the church down to our day, a model of devotion and humility and spiritual earnestness. It's a historical memoir, but it's also a devotional memoir, and it's really particularly relevant to Christian young women because, of course, Louisa Lowry echoes her own experience as a young woman going into the work of missions, but it's something that all of us can learn from because her spiritual-mindedness and her devotion to Christ sets an example for us all.

Now, Fairchild begins Louisa's story by briefly tracing her early years before allowing her own voice to take over. Louisa Ann Wilson Lowry was born on November 2nd, 1809 in Morgantown, Virginia. She was one of nine children born to Thomas and Mary Wilson.

Mary, her mother, died in 1817, and that was followed by her husband Thomas's death nine years later. Fairchild notes this, while she was yet quite young, she was the subject of serious impressions of the importance of divine things, and many of those impressions were made through hardship and through death. Death has a way of impressing upon people the brevity of life and the relative importance of eternity, and these impressions really deepened in Louisa's life, particularly following the death of her father when she was about 17 years old.

In Fairchild's words, she seemed very nigh under the kingdom of heaven at this time, and she expressed frequently her desire and intention to devote her life, however many years the Lord gave her, to the service of Christ. But interestingly enough, that early tenderness didn't immediately lead to her own conversion. During a short stay in Wheeling, West Virginia, or Virginia at that time, not West Virginia, Louisa drifted into a period of spiritual indifference.

He writes that she had a kind of natural liveliness about her and an engaging personality, and this drew her in to the fashionable world where she mingled too much in the giddy round of pleasures and amusements. And we can imagine as many young women today, and young men today, in their late teenage years, fall into this kind of lifestyle. And so she appeared outwardly cheerful, but inwardly she was very far from peace.

When she appeared to others most happy, he writes, she felt quite miserable and easily discovered that there was nothing to satisfy the soul in the world's allurements. What a powerful way that the Lord often uses to train the hearts of young people. All of us have some kind of testimony, perhaps, that can relate to this, that this growing sense, this increasing sense that the world cannot satisfy.

There's a journal entry from May 4th, 1830, that captures this. She quotes John Newton's line in which Newton writes, how tedious and tasteless the hours when Jesus no longer I see. Fairchild then describes the decisive turning point that followed.

After she returns from Wheeling to her brother's home in Morgantown in the spring of 1829, she witnessed one of her closest friends making a public profession of faith. And that moment really pierced her heart. She became, in Fairchild's words, deeply affected and formed a solemn determination to seek the Lord with all her heart.

And she recognized, as she sought the Lord, that the only way a sinner can be justified before God is through the atoning merits and the infinite righteousness of Jesus Christ. And she had days of earnest seeking after Christ and then came to an abiding peace in believing. I want to take a break from our episode to speak to you directly.

One of the great joys of Dead Presbyterian Society has been hearing from you, our listeners and our viewers. You are people who are as interested in 18th and 19th century American Presbyterianism as we are here at Greenville Seminary. This is an exciting time of year at the seminary.

It's a time when we graduate a class of students. These are men who are going out from us and serving Christ and His church throughout the world as pastors. It's also a time when we're getting ready to welcome in a new group of students.

And by God's grace, it looks to be a large group of students this year. We rejoice in seeing all these men and welcoming them to Greenville. It's also the end of our fiscal year.

This is when our budget year ends. And because of the growth in our student body, we have an increased need this year. And so we come to you asking if you might consider giving to the work at Greenville Seminary.

You can go to gpts.edu slash give. And there's a page there that will answer some of your questions. If you have other questions, feel free to reach out to us.

And whether or not you can give to us financially, please pray for us. The work we're doing here at the seminary is important work. It's valuable work.

It's work that the Lord has seen fit to bless. And we look forward to what He will do in the coming year. That was followed very quickly by another awakening in her life.

In the spring of 1830, she had a settled peace and true faith. And she had some kind of sudden illumination, something like a vision, she describes it, as revealing to my view the Redeemer as the Son of God and yet the friend of sinners. But imperceptibly, a love to Christ and a reliance on His merits and intercession took possession of my heart.

Blessed be His name, that the transgressions of sinners may be washed away in that blood which flows for the remission of sins. Interestingly enough, one of the first things that happened after her conversion was she began to delight in the Lord's Day. Here's what she writes, May 9, 1830.

The Sabbath is a blessed day of rest. The Word of life is preached. The prayers of united hearts ascend to the throne of grace.

The birds sing joyously in the groves, and every tree of the forest and every flower and every plant speaks forcibly to my heart, saying, He that formed us is a God of might, of wisdom, and of love. And then shortly after this, on May 23, her reflections deepened. She called the Lord's Day a most precious privilege, and she talked over and over again about how grateful she was for the Lord providing a day of worship and rest.

Now, in late July, 1830, she was preparing to make a public profession of faith. The Lord had worked in her heart. She was converted, but she composed a kind of personal covenant with the Lord, and it really is one of the most revealing documents in her spiritual life.

She writes this, I do desire this day to surrender myself entirely unto Thee, to consecrate to Thee all that I am and have, ever holding myself ready to obey the first intimations of Thy will with zeal and joy. And yet she coupled this with great humility. On June 11, 1831, she confessed, I feel oppressed with a sense of my ingratitude, as often I have wandered from Him.

And that's, of course, a real window into the life of someone who has consecrated herself to Christ and yet knows that so often she fails and is without faith. But there was one question that kept being pressed on her mind as a result of all this, and the one question was this, where can I do the most good? It's a good question for Christians to ask. Where can we do the most good? Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do? She asked.

And here am I, send me. These are petitions that were often presented to her to a throne of grace. And so she began to teach a class in a Sabbath school, and she said it was my delight, the happiest portion of my existence.

She had an acquaintance with the Lord that grew as she prepared and taught others, served others. But in 1832, she had a clearer sense of where she could do the most good. She met a man who was a missionary, John C. Lowry, and he proposed marriage to her.

And she recognized that in serving as his wife and becoming married to this man, that would mean she too would serve as a missionary alongside. And this prospect, interestingly, did not frighten her, although it was very daunting. In fact, Fairchild notes that this had been on her heart for some time.

She often prayed for the chance to, quote, go and tell her perishing fellow creatures personally the way of life. In 1832, she wrote a letter to her brother, and she described how this calling had intensified. She wrote, for more than a year past, my thoughts have dwelt much on the condition of the heathen world.

My heart has been deeply affected when I have read and reflected upon their darkness and degradation, and I have felt strong desires to do them good. I was convinced from the scriptures that missionaries should be sent, nay, that it was the evident duty of every Christian to do all in his power for the conversion of the heathen. I knew of no other way than to give myself to the work, to go to them and labor personally for their salvation.

Now, this was something that had occurred in her mind before there was an opportunity for her to go abroad. She simply understood that if it was God's will that she go, then he would open a way. She went forward with this and was eager, really, to serve, but she was aware of her own frailty.

She writes on October 20th, 1832, one hope there is for me. My soul has a relish for holiness. This is implanted by grace, for I have it not by nature.

When she wrote about missionary service, she said, this undertaking does not appear distressing to me, but awfully responsible. I do most ardently desire it. But she knew that she had poor health, and so on September 11th, 1832, she confessed, I never felt so anxious for good health, and yet I never felt stronger apprehension of a total failure of it.

The Lord knows what is best for me and what will most promote his glory. As 1833 approached, Louisa sensed that God was preparing to reshape her life entirely, despite her ill health, despite her doubts. On January 5th, she wrote this, there is something solemn in the commencement of a year.

It is most probable that in the providence of God this year may witness important changes in my life. And she was right, because in she married John C. Lowry. She departed for India in May.

Although she could never have known this, she entered into heaven in November of that year. Now let's zero in on those final days. Even before Louisa set sail for India, the strain on her body became painfully evident.

In a note to her sister-in-law on May 27th, 1833, she admitted, my health is bad, and my cough still continues. My only hope of recovery is from the voyage, but I feel no anxious concern. All is with the Lord, and let him send life or death.

Whatever is his will is mine. I only pray, Father, glorify thyself in me. Shortly after, a farewell service was held for the departing missionaries at Second Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia.

The words of those gathered, among them her father-in-law, Walter Lowry, and the venerable Archibald Alexander, who has been featured many times on this podcast, left her strengthened and encouraged. The early weeks of the voyage were difficult. There was bad weather, there was unrelenting sickness, and these took their toll.

By late June, the ship reached Madeira, where the travelers rested for a month, and Louisa's final journal entry, dated July 29th, 1833, is the last direct record of her thoughts, though she wrote a few letters afterward, but this is the last diary entry. As they rounded the Cape of Good Hope in September, Louisa's husband wrote, The ship's condition grew perilous, and John went on to write this, We are still in usual health except Louisa. She seems to be fast sinking under the disease, and it is even doubtful whether she will live to reach Calcutta.

O Lord, if this cup may not pass from me, thy holy will be done. A week later, John had a faint hope that she might recover, only to hear her quietly respond in this way, I do not wish that. I do not want to travel over the road again after being so near the end.

She had before said, as she said frequently, that she did not regret having engaged in missionary work. She expressed herself as quite willing to die tonight if the Lord should send for her. They arrived in Calcutta on October 15th.

Louisa, however, remained bedridden from the moment she landed. John's journal from those weeks records the gentle rise and fall of her strength, her continued peace, and her unwavering readiness to enter the presence of Christ whenever he called. And her final day came on November 21st, 1833.

John read to her a passage from Pilgrim's Progress, describing the pilgrim's entrance into the heavenly city, which when I had seen, I wished myself among them. Those words moved her deeply. With this help, she lifted herself up in her bed and whispered, Is this dying? And then spoke with her final breath, O my Savior.

These were the last words she spoke on earth. She was laid to rest the following day in the Scottish Cemetery in Calcutta. In a letter written shortly afterward, her grieving husband poured out his heart, God only knows the intense bitterness of heart I have felt.

Yet I would not, if I could, bring her back to this sorrowful world. John urged himself and others to rejoice that she had gone to the Savior, the Father, the one who is still a most affectionate and sympathizing brother, and the Holy Spirit, the blessed comforter. I would greatly rejoice to be prepared as she was to die and then to be taken home to the same blessed mansion of glory and evermore praise the Savior and rejoice perfectly in Him.

Fairchild, reflecting on the entirety of her short life, wrote with unmistakable admiration, Thus has closed the short but brilliant career of another eminent Christian, another devoted missionary. Few, very few, have ever felt so ardent a desire to make known the way of salvation. I do pray the cause of God may prosper whatever becomes of me.

May a kindred spirit pervade the entire church. Louisa Lowry's life was brief but it was marked by a depth of devotion and consecration that continues to echo down long after her passing. Her writings reveal a young woman who longed for holiness, who loved the Savior, who earnestly sought to do the most good with the time given to her.

Even as her health declined, her trust in God grew stronger and her final words, Oh my Savior, testify to a soul fully anchored in Christ. She never did engage in missionary labor on foreign soil but her witness has reached far beyond the shores she ever sought to serve. Through her journals and letters she has become a quiet yet powerful strong voice in the history of missions, one that continues to inspire believers towards surrender and courage and selfless love for the lost.

Louisa shows us that God measures faithfulness not by the length of our ministry but by the posture of our hearts toward him. Her story also invites us to consider what it means to yield ourself entirely to the Lord's will, trusting him with both our desires and our disappointments. In Louisa we see a life shaped not by outward accomplishments but by inward fidelity, by a steady gaze fixed on Christ, by a willingness to obey, and by a love that endures even to death.

Her legacy pushes us to ask what it might look like to follow Christ, to do the most good with wholehearted resolve. Where's the Lord calling you to deeper obedience even if the road ahead feels uncertain or costly? Are your prayers marked by that same readiness that Louisa displayed, willing not only to support the work of missions but also to be used personally by God? Where are you resisting God's purposes out of fear, out of a love of comfort, out of self-doubt, and what might it look like for you to surrender those things fully to him? We can ask ourselves this final question when reflecting on this brief life. Is the chief aim of your heart to glorify God regardless of the outcome, regardless of the cost, regardless of the recognition? May God be praised with the years of our lives.